Silent: Tale of an Assassin
by Yuki Shinobi of Rain
Summary: Aedion had a younger sister who was with their mother during the fall of Terrasen. She fled the country after her mother's murder and made her way to the Silent Assassin. She grew up with one goal, to find her long lost cousin the queen of Terrasen, Aelin Ashrvyer Galathynius. This is her story, her life, and all the things that come with living.
1. Travel

Alisha Ashryver isn't here right now. Her body may have made it to the Red Desert and trekked halfway through the middle of nowhere. But her mind was elsewhere, with overturned carriages and screaming mothers. Her soul cried out for the family who helped her as her homeland burned, the family she will probably never see again.

Her instincts are what drove a ten year old girl to sell all of her things on her person and travel down the east coast of Erilea. She made it to the port Bellhaven from Orthryn by blending in with different groups that made a mass exodus out of Terrasen.

The young girl's instincts also told her to pose as a cabin boy to get passage from Bellhaven to Xandria. All the stories retold by her brother in the dead of night stolen from the mouths of the palace guards were her guides.

Oh how she miss Aedion. Strong Aedion who wouldn't have left mother just because her magic faltered.

The story that pushed her forward were the tales of assassins, people as quiet as a ghost, people who could blend into the night, the people who could have save mother and made it to her sweet little cousin Aelin.

So here she is. Fighting off the urge to faint because the guide said only a little farther. The wraps around her wrists and ankles kept the invading sand at bay, but her heavy cloak threaten to suffocate her.

But not-Alisha could care less just as long as she became stronger, strong enough to protect. Her eyes weighted with exhaustion and desperation, she had to make it one more step. One more step in a never-ending sea of sand. "Just keep following him," Not-Alisha told herself, "it will all be worth it."

The world blurred at the edges, "One more step." She urged herself.

But she only made it one last step before she faltered, the world fading into black.

…

Not-Alisha was regaining consciousness, her vision was still black, but she could feel bodies moving around her.

Her skin burned and chapped. Her skin felt like her insides after she went to deep into the magic. Like she was on fire.

Non-Alisha throat was closing in on itself, her eyes were welded shut. But a cough forced itself the remaining gap in her windpipe. Immediately one of the bodies helped her into a sitting position. The glue on her eye lost purchase and she finally forced them open.

The room she found was beautiful: Arabic architecture, white walls, and beautiful mosaics. In the room holding the young princess was a young woman who was tan and willowy with work. A bed underneath her was simple matching the small room. There was a matching dresser with water jug above it on the other side.

But what concerned Non-Alisha was the man sitting in the chair at the foot of the bed by the door. He looked to be about forty, permanently tan and had a strong face that still retained some of the handsomeness of his youth. But the sharpness in his green eyes told her that he was a warrior, like her father and other men of the court. The man waved his hand, too much movement in his wrist to just mean "Leave."

The woman released Non-Alisha and gave her a reassuring smile as she left the room. The man focused on her, Non-Alisha was feeling more uncomfortable by the second. Was it normal for people not to speak? What did they want? Is this the Keep of the Silent Assassins?

Her ten year old mind couldn't stand the silence any longer, "Hello." Non-Alisha voice wavered with effort, tearing with each dehydrated breath, "I am…" She wasn't Alisha since she did not have family anymore, "I… I come from Terrasen." The man did not look surprised at the omission of a name, he just tilted his head for her to continue.

And Non-Alisha told him everything.

…

After what could have been hours or minutes Non-Alisha finished the tale of her homeland. Once she had finished the man stared at her, studying her.

"If you wish," the man voice sounded like sandpaper, "my lady, you could train here under me. I am the Mute Master you seek and you can relearn to live here." His accent she couldn't place but his voice was kind.

Wide eyed from tears and fear Non-Alisha whispered, "I can be anyone?" The Mute Master nodded. Non-Alisha wiped her tears, "Can I have a new name?" He nodded again. Non-Alisha fear melted and was reforming into awe for the master.

While very reserved in nature she was also curious, it's how her cousin and brother got her to do "anything fun" as they called it. Slightly louder than before she asked, "If you are the Mute Master then why do you speak?"

The master smiled rising from the chair to sit next to her, "That is because sometimes words are needed. You will probably never hear me speak again after today." He patted Non-Alisha head, "But we will still be able to communicate."

Non-Alisha snuggled into the contact she didn't even realize she craved, "Then why do you normally not speak?"

"Because words are powerful, but so is the silence." The master paused looking off, "It can help focus people, some people take vows of silence as a way to re-center themselves."

Non-Alisha pulled away from the master, "Then that's what I'll do." The master pulled his hand back, quizzically looking at the young royal. "I will not talk or be Alisha again until I can find my cousin." Shyly she looked to the master. Realizing that she was probably being rude assuming, "If you'll have me?"

The master stared at the young refuge for what felt like forever. Then quietly he spoke the last words the either of them would speak for ten years, "Emilea Sephim, the Silent Assassins will take you as an acolyte."


	2. Acolyte

**So here is the next chapter. I want to thank the amazing **_**Enelya Arcamenal **_**for Beta Reading. Also I want to thank **_**iwillnotbeafraid**_** for their review. Hope you enjoy. **

Looking at the mirror Emilea couldn't make up her mind. It was her first day as an acolyte and she didn't want to disappoint. Emilea was so nervous that she hadn't slept a wink the night before. The Mute Master allowed her to move her meager amount of belongings to the large room where all the female acolytes stayed.

It was a large room with arching ceiling with large glass mosaics for allowing light to gently stream in. It had ten bunk beds, thirteen of which were filled with the personalities of those who rested their. Emilea was thankful that she got a top bed and was sharing the bunk with her guide/partner. Emilea saw the girl when the mute master lead her to the new bed in the middle of the night. The young woman, whose name was Senna, asked if she wanted to rest another day for the master: but Emilea couldn't wait to get started and prove her worth.

However, now Emilea half-wished she took them up of that offer. Emilea was dressed in the only other outfit she was given by that kind family back in Terrasen. It was a simple shirt that was colored cream with age, pants that use to be a rich brown faded to an almost tan color, and her boots whose soles were in perpetual need of repair. Emilea felt ashamed because when she lived in the court she was prideful of her indifference to fancy clothes, but here in the assassin's keep she was embarrassed to be in these old hand me downs. She felt like her hair style had to make up for her clothes, and that insecurity festered in her pool of self-hate.

Behind her, Emilea saw that her bunkmate was waking up. Stretching, the girl looked like a cat, thin but with strong wiry muscles. The girl looked much older once she was wake, her Eyllwe features both strong and beautiful. The girl smirked in Emilea's direction, "Your fidgeting woke me up." Emilea brushed her fingers through her hair blushing as she looked down. The girl got up, "Here," she gently said as took Emilea's hair, "let me." Emilea bit her lip, but the girl just hummed, "My name is Asenath, what is yours?"

Asenath hands were rough with work but kind as she braided Emilea's hair from one ear across her forehead. Emilea opened her mouth then closed it as she remembered her vow of silence. But understanding flashed across her face, "Ah a vow of silence already, before you even know how to sign?" Asenath rolled her eyes, "Do not worry, I'll teach you how to sign, but first I'll find a pen and paper so you can tell me your name."

As Asenath rummaged through her foot locker, Emilea looked in the mirror and smiled, with her hair braided nicely and in a bun at the back of her head, not to mention her weather worn clothes, she looked like a wise world traveler.

Emilea was finally ready to face the day.

…..

Or at least she thought she was ready, Emilea head was spinning, she had never realized how much work went into keeping things running. Asenath made good on her promise of finding a pen and paper, which she allowed Emilea to keep for the day, and it was proving to be invaluable.

Asenath explained that everyone under the age of thirteen was to work; cleaning the assassins rooms, keeping the whole keep clean, and working in the kitchen, to teach them how to be humble. She then explained that for the first few weeks, to get new acolytes accustomed to a day's hard work, they only worked in the kitchen. Which meant that Asenath left to do her duties after introducing her to Mikhail a curly haired boy with a wolfish smile, he was the acolyte in charge of the kitchen. He later whispered to Emilea that it was because he couldn't keep out of trouble.

The head of the kitchen reprimanded him numerous times and each time Emilea would apologize by writing it on the paper. Well, until an hour before dinner, only once Emilea's hands and feet were good and worn, did she command Mikhail to start teaching her how to sign.

…..

Tired, ache, and annoyed, Emilea was very thankful once Asenath returned. Mikhail was an unbearable teacher, he had to tie in every sign with how great he was going to be once he made his first run in a months' time. Lucky, with all the tutors she had at the place, Emilea was a quick study and could adequately conveyed her displeasure to her guide.

Soon, Emilea was joking and eating with all the other acolytes, as the older ones spoke of the harrowing tales of the older inhabitants of the keep.

Emilea was also surprised at how much the desert made her drink.

….

That is how Emilea's days continued. As she worked away her sorrows during the day, and in the evenings listen to stories of bravery, she almost forgot her homeland.

Almost, but her homeland's call was too great at night. Emilea rarely got a good night sleep, because as soon as she closed her eyes the screams would start.

So Emilea worked harder, hoping if maybe she was exhausted enough she could sleep without dreams. But she could never work hard enough to escape the screams at night. But at least the older assassin, and fellow acolytes, took note of her work ethic, and she made even more friends. Plus sometimes the older assassins would reward her with stories.

….

When your entirety of your belongings could be placed in a space that was less than a foot by foot by three foot locker simple things become a valuable commodities. And if all your needs are provided for, like food, shelter, and water, then stories become the most precious thing a person could have.

And while Emilea wouldn't speak, she had a whole arsenal of stories that none of the other acolytes knew. She started to add the tales from when she was younger to the nightly gathering about a year after her arrival.

It started on an evening when a large group of acolytes were preparing to make their first run, marking the start of their training, during the night of solstice as tradition called for. (Emilea suspected that they didn't want a large group of teenagers fainting under the unrelenting heat because they haven't learned to pace themselves.) All the acolytes gathered in the hall, the older ones trying to look cool but failing, the younger ones bouncing on their feet because they were allowed to stay up late.

There was a small group, of maybe fourteen people, all huddled around having a contest to see who had the best hero story. Emilea had some friends, but many of her friends had begun their training the previous solstice (like Mikhail, who grew on her, and Asenath to name a few). So she wandered to the storytelling group. Emilea sat down and listen to two of the tales before she was sure that she had the best story. The whole group became quiet when she raised her hand, after all she was infamous for being the youngest person to take a vow of silence (excluding Ilias, who was the master's own son). Now Emilea knew some of the other acolytes were not as proficient in signing so she waved over a young assassin, her friend Demika, to translate.

And she blew everyone else's stories out of the water, hers was from an old book that she and Aelin found. It was about the great king Brannon Galathynius, she had her entire audience so enraptured that even Demika forgot to speak at some points.

And that's what made Emilea realize the power of the word, whether it be spoken or not.

…

Emilea's last two years of being an acolyte taught her two things: one, a person cannot continuously work without a break, and two, the pride comes before the fall.

…

Emilea was agitated, it was nearing the second anniversary of the fall of Terrasen, the second anniversary of her losing everything. The previous year Emilea hadn't had much time to think about the date because she was still adapting to her new life, and the older assassins kept her mercifully busy that day. Almost as if the master told them what the date meant to her. But this year she was in her last year of being an acolyte, the work that once took all of her attention and focus was now monotonous.

So she went looking for new jobs to do, and she found the stables. The beautiful horses, to the lowly pigs, Emilea found a new thing to occupy her time. Finding the stable master, the massive Samuel, Emilea was in luck. The two weeks leading up to the anniversary Samuel was going to be on a short contract with a lord's traveling party. Which meant she could work as long and as hard as she liked during those two works.

Emilea would spend her mornings cleaning out all the pens, keeping the animals calm kept enough of her focus that she could forget about the screams of her homeland. Then in the afternoon she would spend her time brushing the horses out, and feeding all the animals. The animals calmed her as worked, while all the heavy lifting made her small muscles grow. Then right before supper she would wash up and then eat. To which she would afterwards spend hours practicing the moves that she spied the assassins make during their daily training.

For Emilea Sephim, rest was the devil.

….

Her friends had started to worry, they never saw Emilea after she started working in the stables. But they assumed that she would be looked after by the adults, that they would keep her from burning out.

….

Two weeks after Samuel left his stables in the capable hands of a young acolyte he rode in. Even so he still expected the stable to be a little out of sorts but in good condition, after all it was a lot of work to keep a stable perfect, he was shocked, it was spotless. It was so spotless that it even surpassed Samuel's impressive level of orderliness. He lead his horse Marco into his pristine stall, Samuel decided that he would thank Emilea for her amazing work in the morning. Even if afterwards he would have to explain that this level of order in a stable was just a waste of effort.

He was about to retire to his room when is sharpened senses alerted him to a noise. With years of training (because while he was a stable master he still was an assassin) he crept slowly, towards the pen that held his youngest mare. He slid his favorite knife from out of its sheath on his arm, when he rounded the corner what he saw made him quickly replace his knife.

It was Emilea, she was crying into the mare's mane as she slowly brushed her coat. After a moment Emilea turned and faced him. She looked half startled as she began to furiously wipe away the tears, signing with her right hand that she had something in her eye. Samuel face softened, "Oh you poor girl." He walked over and embraced her, there was enough refugees in the Keep that he recognized the signs. "Shh. Emilea, work will not make the pain soften. Only friends and good memories will."

And that is how Samuel decided to take on Emilea as an apprentice, first as a stable hand, then as an assassin.

Because the girl had compassion and passion.

….

In the weeks after Emilea became happier and more open (well as open as someone who doesn't speak could). However her position as one of the lead story tellers and already being an apprentice (even as a stable hand) got to her head. Even as a child she was prideful, it was the deadly trait of the Royal House of Ashryver. Emilea also, when she was a child in Orynth, was quicker than any man. She hadn't had a good run since that fateful night a year and half ago, not since her magic, well, all magic, abandoned them. But with her recent self-esteem boost complete of being useful, and invaluable to someone again, her less desirable traits began to rise to the surface.

Emilea's pride would have continued to grow had she not overheard some of the newly made assassins brag about how they were the fastest in the whole Keep. Her normally repressed tendency to be competitive burst forward. And without her older brother to tease her back into a proper mindset she challenged them to a race.

And of course thirteen year old male assassins couldn't be bested by a twelve year old female acolyte.

And of course since it was Saturday, everyone's day of rest, the challenge had to be grand. So the challenge the three boys devised was who ever could finish three laps (approximately mile and half each lap) around the Keep in the fastest time would be the winner.

They expected her to give up on the first lap and to need to be carried that they even drew straws to figure out who would carry the tall girl.

However, to their surprise and the surprise of the ever increasing spectators, Emilea, two years out of practice, kept up with the leader of the pack. Sweat was rolling down her back, catching in her characteristic wraps, her water bucket bouncing on her back, she was smiling brighter than she had since she arrived.

After the first lap with her laboring but still keeping up with the boys they started to get annoyed. So after the mandatory two minute break the boys pushed harder than they ever had before, to the point of puking. But Emilea still kept up with the slowest of the boys, red faced and determined, she was on the runners high. The last twenty meters, because her younger years taught her pacing, she sprinted and barely passed the leader before stopping for the break.

Emilea wanted to laugh, this was the closest she had to been to the magic and her wolf form since the fall. It was amazing, at the end break period she didn't even pause to check on her opponents, she just went on.

Allowing for the sweet agony and burn to take her away.

The master and Samuel were waiting for her after her fifteen minute lap, and while mostly everyone else was amazed with her running ability, they were unimpressed. Samuel was about to start reprimanding her when she suddenly succumbed to the darkness.

….

When Emilea awaken she got the biggest scolding of her life. Samuel talked about how she displayed pride-fullness, and a disregard for her fellows and herself. The boys she raced were in the hospital wing suffering from exhaustion, not to mention all the acolytes that would risk their lives trying to repeat her stunt.

It was the first time she felt truly responsible for her pride, normally it was her brother and cousin who brought that side out, and she vowed to never be prideful again.

However, her prideful nature still showed from time to time.

Even after being barred from the stables for two weeks and put on potato duty for three.

….

Yes, the three years of being an acolyte prepared her for her future training. It trained her spirit and soon it was time to really start training the body.


	3. Solstice

**So sorry about the delay, but life hit me in the face. By the way if anyone can guess where I get most my names from brownie points. Also cookies to (in the order in my inbox) ScorpioQueen74, AgitatedDog9288, DaughterXBelikova1923, iwillnotbeafraid, Willow D'Forest, Elbob jonny, Nashimi, IAMAWESOME97, Aelin08, silver-eyedLadyofDarkness, thesoldiersdaughter, MissMikaelson26, and Scarlet Nightshadow. I know some of these people favorited/commented on my other story but I just wanted to thank everyone who supports me on here. Also to the fabulous Enelya Arcamenal for making this actually English instead of the bastardization of it I spew out. You all are my pretty people! Also for the people who read this and are one of the first three to write meep in a PM and I will let you name an original character. And any comments/PM (I know I am being presumptuous but oh well) I will try to respond to all of them. If yours is missed please feel free to spam my account after one week (which is normally how often I check this account). Now on to the real story!**

This solstice was both infinitely exciting, and infinitely boring. Emilea had lived through five solstice runs and they were not as intriguing as they had been at first, even if it meant everyone had a half day of work.

But this one was special, for she had turned thirteen.

Emilea rolled her neck and straightened her clothes, it had taken her half the day to find a good balance between looking nice, and being functional. Her hair had been braided by Asenath, just like her first day as an acolyte, but this time her clothes were new. The shirt was a gift from Demika for her birthday, it was a simple white tunic embroidered with gold and turquoise thread, the short sleeves a blessing in the stifling heat. Her pants were brown leather, made for riding and given to her by Samuel. To complete it all, her shoes were riding boots that she saved up for herself, not surprisingly they were the most expensive thing she owned, imported from her homeland, she wore them every day. Wrapped around her wrists were tan cloths to keep the sweat from her hands, the same kind that was belted around her waist.

But being perfectly dressed didn't ease her worry, nor her ability to run. Because Emilea wasn't worried about the solstice ceremony, but for what followed.

What if she wasn't a fighter? What if she couldn't find Aelin? What if-?...

A hand fell onto her shoulder, Emilea was startled and jumped, but it was only Demika. Emilea let out a breath she hadn't known she was holding. "Emilea you have nothing to worry about." Demika soft voice whispered in her ear.

'I know.' She signed with a meek smile. Demika rolled his chocolate brown eyes, "Sure," He danced around her to face her, almost causing her to blush, "Little Miss Serious being relaxed before her initiation as an assassin."

His sarcastic tone erased any blush from her face, Demika might be two years her senior, but that didn't mean he could tease her like that. Sticking her nose up, mimicking what Aelin used to do when she had to wear a dress she didn't like. Scowling, Emilea signed, 'I'll do better than you.' Demika only gave a wolfish smile and pushed his shaggy brown hair out of his eyes, "Oh yeah, Sephim? If you're the best rookie then I'll do one thing, anything, that you ask. If you aren't the best rookie, well then…" He leaned in real close, "You'll have to let me hear your voice." Emilea smirked, 'Deal.' The two shook on it.

Demika, while still shaking Emilea's hand pointed over her shoulder, "However, Sephim, if you want to be the best you're off to a bad start." Emilea looked at him quizzically, then saw what he meant. The newest batch of apprentice assassins were already lining up for the run. Her eyes widened, as she quick waved good bye to her friend.

Demika shook his head as his younger friend ran off, "She'll do fine". He only made that bet with Emilea: one to distract her from worrying about the future, and two, she would never risk breaking her vow of silence so she wouldn't get cocky during the first year of training. He had no doubt in that Emilea was going to be one of the best, even if he was still a little sad that he most likely wouldn't get to hear her voice. His little mystery.

…

Emilea was tense at the starting line, not the bad kind of tense, but the kind that allowed a person to strike at a moment's notice. She desperately wanted to be the best assassin she could be, but she just had to get the top spot. For if she didn't by the end of the year she would have to break her vow of silence. And she couldn't have that.

The master sat on a pillar in front of the group of apprentices, his hand raised above his head, the moon high in the night sky, he dropped it and Emilea sprung forward. And a soon as she broke into a sprint felt the joy of the run in her veins, if she could breathe right she would have let out a whoop of joy.

She even kept pace with true assassins.

All that mattered was the in and out of her breath, the pounding of her feet on the shifting sand. It was bliss, she could even almost feel the wolf in her soul singing.

….

On her return to the Keep there was cheering. Even though she red faced and out of breath she felt alive. All the pats on the back and dancing, while it made her smile, couldn't match the pure elation of a good run. As her friends pulled her in to dancing she spied the master greeting the first of the tried and true assassins, he smiled at her and she understood that he knew her joy.

…

All the acolytes are sent to bed as soon as the run starts, so Emilea had never been to the party that was held after the run. But she glad that the older assassins made them wait, dancing with other assassins made it feel special. Emilea got to catch up with her friends, and they were finally allow to fully disclose what went on in training. Emilea also discovered, to her great joy, that her new roommate was to be Asenath.

But at quarter to two the older assassins told the new apprentices to get to bed because their day started an hour after the dawn.

….

Emilea thought she was never going to get to sleep that night, but truth be told as soon as her head hit the pillow she was out. And she, had she been allowed, would have slept off the anxiety of the past couple of weeks. But she wasn't, because with the usual Eyllwe tact and poise, Asenath dumped the younger assassin unto the floor. "Stop wasting daylight, it is dawn and you are going to need all the energy you can get."

Emilea glared at her friend, she suspected her friend was getting back at all the times Emilea made her get ready early. Asenath just ignored her and threw the sash of the first year assassins in to her face. "Don't worry about your appearance today Sephim, whatever you wear today will be destroyed." Emilea would have made an indignant face at Asenath's comment, but she was distracted, not because of vanity, but because of beauty. The bright white sash that would go through everything with her until she was deemed a true adult and allowed to take contracts. Emilea gave herself a moment to feel the rough weave of the fabric before she quickly put on her mucking out clothes.

Of the fourteen newly minted assassins she was going to be the first one allowed to symbolically burn her sash.

She was going to make her mother, Aedion, and Aelin proud.

….

The main hall was bustling with hushed excitement, even though there was only fourteen new assassins, their excitement was infectious. When you were an acolyte, they could help make the meals, so most just ate in the kitchen or in the acolyte dorms. Plus most acolytes didn't want to disturb the assassins. But now she belonged, and she held her head high as she walked in.

Emilea saw that all the new assassins were congregating at a table a few over. Only the other females were there so far and suddenly Emilea felt acutely uncomfortable. Even though they were all the same age and use to reside in the same dorm, Emilea was never very social. And she, before today, had been terrified to speak to the five girls who had been the best friends forever. But Emilea swallowed the lump in her throat and steeled herself with this thought, 'We're all going to be working together so I shouldn't be afraid.'

As Emilea walked over, the twins, Tabitha and Nympha, gave her a strange look and pointed for the other three to look as well. It made Emilea stomach drop as she tried to remember how she had come off these past three years. When Emilea reached the food laden table she signed at the occupants, 'May I sit here.' The five girls looked varying degrees of confused. But one of the brunettes, 'Arsinoe' Emilea thought, was the first to recover. Arsinoe started to say "Sure" but the blonde interrupted halfway through.

"Oh, so now we're good enough to hang out with."

Emilea was so physically shocked she took a step back, she didn't think she came off that way. She didn't know how to respond, but luckily she didn't have to. Marta, one of five people from Terrasen, and one of the five people she avoided like the plague, came to her rescue. "Come off it Priscilla. We are all going to be working together anyway." Priscilla pouted and glared but the other three visibly relaxed. Emilea felt like all eyes were on them and blood rushed to her ears and neck, but Marta continued like nothing happened, "Please sit down, your name is Emilea right?"

But Emilea was still aching from the hatred in Priscilla's voice that she just dumbly sat down across from Marta and tried to avoid eye contact with everyone. Especially Marta, the person who should have been the last one to come to her aid. Especially Marta, one of people who could out her as a royal, one of the people who should hate her for hiding and not protecting their sovereign.

…

After breakfast all the assassins, even the new assassins whose muscles still ached from the run a few hours before, grabbed their buckets and started to run. Most of the other new assassins, especially the vocal few (Priscilla, Silas and Didymus to be exact), were upset that they had to do the three mile run on their first day.

But not Emilea, not only does it give her a reprise from the tense breakfast (that didn't even loosen up after the arrival of the guys), but she could run again.

During the run, she was the first of the recent assassins to finish but far from the first to return. Even toning her running down to get a longer run didn't make it long enough for her tastes. By the time she made it to the meeting place that a mid-level assassin told them, Emilea was in a sour mood.

Lounging against the outside wall of conservatory was Mikhail, and had it not been for her years of silence, Emilea would have groaned. How could she forget that the past solstice Mikhail was promoted to assistant trainer. The youngest ever at sixteen years old, it was a good move on the Master's part. Mikhail had picked up the technical skills of being an assassin with inborn talent, but was too loud and cocky to be allowed to go on the more... delicate contracts. So placing him in a position of authority placated his need for grandeur while also putting to use his skills to bring up the next generation. Plus, he even taught the most mundane things with such vigor, with the hope to make him seem more important, it was funny. And even Emilea could admit, with all his personality quirks, he honestly cared for everyone who lived in the Keep.

But that still didn't alleviate the annoyance that she felt when Mikhail sauntered over. "Well, well, I should have known you would be done first." He smiled wolfishly, and if she hadn't grown up with him, she might have swooned, "Anyway for the first month of training, from the time you finish running til everyone arrives, you will be doing katas, you remember those right?" Emilea couldn't resist, something about Mikhail brought out the Aelin in her, and rolled her eyes. They taught all acolytes that as they arrived, katas helped build up strength and flexibility without fighting skills. Mikhail pushed her rolling her eyes and said, "Get to it then."

Emilea found a spot that was shielded from the mid-morning sun and flowed into the natural movements. She fell into the flow of the katas but still was aware enough to notice when the packs of the other came in.

The first group didn't surprise her, they were all from Xandrai and ran every day inside even before the older assassins started to hint that it was a good idea to practice. They all had the natural olive skin tone and dark tightly curly hair of those who were native. She remembered two of the three names, Thaddaeus (because at thirteen he already five foot three) and Didymus (for all his complaining) but the baby face boy name she couldn't remember for the life of her. But she didn't get his name because Mikhail just pointed to her and said, "Start doing katas." Smirking like an idiot as the three quickly, although with some small complaint by Didymus, fell in line.

Small groups of two filtered in as the morning passed with the last group of, the girls (minus Marta who arrived thirty minutes before with her brother Lazarus), arrived right before the high sun.

Mikhail clapped his hands together as the last group panted in exhaustion, "Ok young ones, here is the deal right after your 'morning jog'," Some of girls giggled as Mikhail wagged his eyebrow at them. Emilea couldn't fathom why, but Mikhail perked up as he continued. "You are to come here and do katas until everyone is done." Some of the guys groaned, "Then do an extra fifteen minutes of katas with everybody together. Then if there is time before lunch we will start training, if not we'll break for lunch and return here. This starts today, I'll meet you all at two o'clock for the first part." We as a group nodded, Mikhail just stared expectantly, "Well get to it!"

….

The wait for two o'clock was unbearable to Emilea; because the boys wanted to train, unfortunately exhausting themselves before the real training even began, and she couldn't stand the idea of trying to fix whatever she had done to offend Priscilla. For the goddesses' sake she never even talked to her! She settled for what she thought was the lesser of two evils, practicing with the boys.

It worked well until an older assassin told them that sparing was prohibited for first years outside of training. Emilea tried to act disappointed at the news but she couldn't help but be relieved.

So the boys, plus Emilea, finished out the wait under a lone tree by the meeting place. Mikhail arrived ten minutes before the meet time, while the girls arrived five minutes early. Once they had all gathered, Mikhail clapped his hands together, "There has been a change of plans. The master wants to try something new, instead of conditioning being in the afternoon, I will be working with you all in the mornings. You will still be running, but how fast the slowest person gets done will determine how soon you get to conditioning." The newbies all exchanged looks, what did that mean? "Instead of meeting your sponsors after the six months you will be doing the majority of your training with them." The confusion of the new assassins grew, they had never heard of a sponsor. Mikhail smiled, "A sponsor agrees to take on a small group of new assassin and train them to work in a team. Normally there would be conditioning, combat, and other instruction before you break into teams. Building up your individual skills before teaching everyone teamwork, but the Master decided that this group would benefit from team skills first. So today instead of the obstacle course from hell I was planning you all get to meet and greet with your teams."

Mikhail looked at us expectantly, like they were supposed to be excited, but then gave up and pulled out a piece of paper. "Alright guys you can stop hiding in the shadows." Four figures appeared out of nowhere along the wall of the conservation. Startling the new trainees, they hadn't even noticed the older assassins hiding in the still high sun. Emilea was terrified of meeting her sponsor, until she realized underneath one of the head wraps was Samuel.

Mikhail ignored the amazed looks that were not directed towards him. In an oddly professional manor he started talking, "So our first sponsor is Seth," A middle aged man with scars on his chin unmasked himself and smiled, "with Marta," Emilea half hoped half feared she would be with Marta, "Silas, Saul, and Didymus. You all may follow Seth and be debriefed."

Signing Seth said 'Please follow me.' The group looked a little uneasy and Marta look at her brother Lazarus for support. She found what she was looking for and lead the group in following their sponsor.

Mikhail nodded to the retreating group then continued, "Next is Japheth's group," the young man who unmasked had the most serious look on his face, "the members will be the twins Tabitha, Nympha, Lazarus, and Andrew." Japheth just jerked his head and started to walk off without waiting for his new team. They rushed off after their new teacher while Mikhail rolled his eyes, "Same as always" he said almost under his breath.

Returning his volume to speaking level, Mikhail looked at his paper, "Jacob," who didn't bother to unmask, "Will have Arsinoe, Iscariot, and Thaddaeus." But Jacob at least gave his team a friendly wave before pulling them away from the remainder.

Emilea's heart soared as she realized she would continue to apprentice under Samuel. Mikhail folded his paper and started to walk away, "The rest of you are with Samuel." Samuel unmasked and smiled at each of them. Emilea felt her heart leap until she hear the person who she forgot about open her mouth.

"Why do we get the stable man as a sponsor?" If looks could kill, the glare Emilea gave Priscilla at that moment meant the other girl would be dead. She and her beautiful black hair and even her skin could go to hell for all Emilea cared, just for that comment.

But before Emilea could snap on the hateful girl, their third team member stood between them. Emilea registered that his name was Cephas.

"Pris," It seemed him and Priscilla were friends, "Samuel is a respected Assassin."

Samuel looked only slightly taken back by the comment. He pulled a hand through his short hair, "Well I knew there had to be a catch to this."


End file.
